


got that glitter on my eyes

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Aliens, Clubbing, Diplomacy, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Psychotropic Drugs, Rave, Season/Series 01, Semi-Public Sex, Telepathy, will is fucking the aliens because why wouldn't he
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: "This gathering they’re holding — I believe it broadly translates to ‘rave’ in Federation Standard," Deanna says, scrutinising the notes on her PADD.“Let me get this straight.” Tasha frowns. “We have toparty, or they’ll take grave offence?”“It could cause a major diplomatic incident,” Deanna says, and there’s a wicked sparkle in her eyes.(Nobody ever said Federation diplomacy was conventional. Tasha, Deanna and Will attend a rave on an alien planet; shenanigans ensue.)
Relationships: Deanna Troi/Tasha Yar
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	got that glitter on my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> ** I didn't tag for dubious consent, everyone is very much into this but drugs are involved, so vaguely sketchy. ** F/F but some references to side Will/Deanna.

"This gathering they’re holding — I believe it broadly translates to ‘rave’ in Federation Standard," Deanna says, scrutinising the notes on her PADD.

“Let me get this straight.” Tasha frowns. “We have to _party,_ or they’ll take grave offence?”

“It could cause a major diplomatic incident,” Deanna says, and there’s a wicked sparkle in her eyes. “There’s more,” she adds, indicating the PADD.

Tasha leans over her shoulder, noting absently that Deanna smells really good: faintly floral and beneath, something warmer, spicier.

Erendii VI is a peaceful mining world; it’s long been warp-capable and is in the final stages of gaining full membership in the Federation. All potential red flags have checked out: laws, governance, political and economic stability, cultural adaptability. However, the Erendii diplomatic envoys have made an unusual request for a Federation delegation to attend one of their ‘gatherings’. Tonight, that’s fallen to Deanna and Tasha, with Will set to join them once he finishes up alpha shift.

Tasha blinks, trying to focus on the briefing notes when she’s this close to Deanna. “This gathering’s only held once every hundred standard years, it looks like. Seems like a big deal.” She carries on reading. “Oh. Ritual use of psychotropic drugs is common among the Erendii, and will almost certainly be the case at the party. _That._ ”

“If they ask us,” Deanna says, answering Tasha’s unspoken question, “we won’t be able to say no. They’ll expect us to fully participate in their rituals. Beverly already obtained samples of the most common ones from an Erendii doctor and she’s testing them right now.”

Her fingers thread through Tasha’s.

“We can find a way to get you out of it, I think, if we have to,” Deanna tells her gently. Even without being an empath, Tasha knows they’re both thinking of Turkana IV, the notes in her file that tell of a planet ravaged by addiction. “I don’t want you to be put in a situation you aren’t comfortable in.” She pauses. “Beverly’s preliminary screenings suggest Erendii psychotropic substances aren’t addictive. If that helps at all.”

“It does.” Tasha nods, staring down at their joined fingers before she pulls her hand back. Her throat has gone tight.

A voice cuts in: “Riker to Troi.”

Deanna taps her combadge. “Go ahead, Commander.”

“Beaming down now. I trust you’ll brief me on the situation.”

Tasha meets Deanna’s eyes and they start giggling as soon as the communicator cuts off.

This is going to be fun.

“There you are,” Tasha says, dipping her fingers into the pot of glitter and smearing some artfully across Will’s cheekbones. “Gold is definitely your colour, Commander.”

Based on their painstaking research into Erendii culture, they’ve replicated gathering-appropriate outfits. Will’s lurid gold vest and matching tight pants are almost understated compared to what they dressed him in on Angel One. Ever the Federation diplomat, he didn’t put up too much of a fight once they showed him what he was expected to wear.

“Be fair, Tasha,” he warns.

Deanna steps forward with a makeup kit, and Will opens his eyes wide so she can apply thick gold liner and lashings of mascara.

Tasha straightens her low-cut cropped shirt, conscious of how it looks much better on Deanna’s shapely body. She chose something in the colour of the limitless Erendii ocean (the planet is more than ninety per cent water, after all) and they're matching. The fabric shimmers under light and goes perfectly with pants in the same hue.

“You look great,” Deanna says with a reassuring smile, touching her arm, and Tasha inwardly curses the fact that her friend is so empathic.

“I’ll say,” Will adds, his own smile appraising before he gathers himself. He clears his throat and picks up a PADD on the table. “I have Beverly’s report here. It seems the main effect of the drug is psychotropic — affects emotions, behaviour, that kind of thing. We aren’t entirely clear on the effects, but the Erendii equivalent of a doctor has assured her it’s perfectly safe. It should wear off by tomorrow.”

“It’s not like the polywater, is it?” Tasha asks, trying to ignore the sting of embarrassment she feels whenever she thinks about that.

“No,” Deanna says, her eyes scanning the PADD in Will's hand. There’s a pause. “It won’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do to start with.”

“That’s a relief,” Will says, an excited smile sliding onto his face.

Tasha glances at the chronometer. “We’d better get going. It’s starting soon.”

She watches Will and Deanna exchange a long, loaded look that she doesn’t understand at the time.

Later, she will.

The gathering starts out innocuously enough. There is a reception where a number of interesting delicacies are served. Tasha and Deanna don’t try most of them, but Will happily partakes with his usual abandon and fascination for alien cultures.

Then the aide to the Erendii leader drifts over and offers them a dish with a number of lurid-coloured tablets in.

“It is our way,” they explain, long tentacles brushing against Tasha’s hand as they proffer the drugs. “I trust you will join us?” Their expression is stark, several glowing purple eyes glaring at the three of them.

Tasha doesn’t shrink from the gaze.

She watches Deanna’s uncertain expression shift, her frown changing to a devilish smile in the blink of an eye, and Tasha instantly relaxes. She trusts Deanna; there’s clearly no danger in any of this.

“Bottoms up,” Will says, passing a pill to each of them.

Whatever it is, it takes effect quickly. One moment they’re all talking, and the next, everything seems sharper, almost glowing. It bubbles up inside Tasha without warning; a strange euphoria that spreads throughout her body to reach every extremity.

“You feel that?” she murmurs to Deanna, and feels Deanna squeeze her fingers in silent answer.

“God,” Deanna says faintly, her voice low. “Yes. I think it’s taking effect.”

They both look up when an unearthly chime sounds. The doors at the end of the reception room slide open to reveal a vast, domed room ringed with beaded curtains that glisten like rippling water. Some kind of loud, electronic music is playing and it’s dark, lit up only by swathes of coloured light that play across the floor.

Erendii spill through the doors and onto what it is clearly a dancefloor.

“It’s a nightclub,” Tasha says, laughing breathlessly. From where she’s standing, the colours are too bright, bold reds and deep greens that make spots appear in her field of vision.

“Come on,” Will says, his eyes wide, mesmerised by the sight before them. He clearly can’t wait to be a part of it.

Tasha hesitates. She watches Will take Deanna’s hand and lead her forward. All eyes are on them, and not just because they’re the aliens here. They’re absurdly attractive, of course, but it’s more than that. The pair of them have a magnetism that can’t help draw the eye. She knows they have a past, like the whole ship does. She’s seen hints of it before — those subtle brushes of hands and hungry looks that tell of a passion they keep sealed away beneath their Starfleet personas — but this is the first time she’s seen them look at each other like this: intimate, heated, like the surface has cracked and revealed what’s beneath their painstakingly professional relationship.

Will glances back, beckoning to Tasha with a hand, and she follows them willingly into the waiting darkness.

In the centre of the dancefloor, Will pulls Deanna against him and they’re moving in a way that makes Tasha want to look away. Bodies surround them, undulating to the music that pulses in time with hundreds of heartbeats, and the sudden heat is overwhelming. Tasha’s shirt is constricting her: she’s already burning up, sweat prickling on her skin and warmth tingling at the base of her spine.

But then Deanna’s hand is reaching back for her, sparkling blue nails glinting in the sweep of light from the ceiling.

“Will,” Deanna says to him, her fingers still locked into Tasha’s, and Tasha is straining to hear them over the music. “Come on. Look around; they’re all watching us. You can’t tell me you’re not tempted to have a little fun.”

He says something else that Tasha can’t hear, and then he leans in to kiss Deanna, hot and open — and Tasha has never imagined the pair of them like this; two playful and utterly sensual creatures.

Whether it’s the drugs or not, in an instant Tasha can hardly breathe from arousal from watching them, already hot and tingling between her thighs. She’s ready to make herself scarce, but then Deanna drops her hand and Will’s hands are suddenly on Deanna’s back, pushing her towards Tasha.

He’s swallowed up by the crowd in an instant, and then there’s only Deanna, her eyes playful as they fix on Tasha’s.

“Let’s dance,” Deanna says, reaching for Tasha’s hands, and her grin is as wide as Tasha’s ever seen it.

Some time later:

“Tasha,” Deanna says thickly, hands stroking down either side of her face. The music is pulsing in the background, the throb of the bass sending jolts through Tasha’s body every time she moves against Deanna. “I’m losing myself.”

Tasha’s not sure how long they’ve been dancing; one song has blurred into another. All she knows right now is that Deanna’s body against her is fever-hot — Betazoids have higher body temperatures, she remembers distantly from some exobiology lecture back at the academy — and all Tasha wants is to press herself closer.

“I’ve got you,” Tasha finds herself saying, sliding her palms down to cup the soft curves of Deanna’s hips. When she looks back at Deanna — black pupils blown, lips parted — she feels a spike of lust slicing through her that Deanna can surely feel.

“I think I need to leave,” Deanna says, her hands now on Tasha’s shoulders as if she needs the leverage to stay upright. “I’m afraid I might take advantage of you.”

“What, Deanna?” Tasha bursts out. She’s hardly unaffected by the substance coursing through their veins, but the throb between her legs and the tingling beneath her skin when she’s close to Deanna is nothing new. Too many times to count, she’s felt the same way: over drinks in Ten Forward, seated beside Deanna at crew poetry readings, on the bridge when Deanna’s dark eyes fix on her and she wonders what’s she’s thinking.

“Nothing.” Deanna closes her eyes, still moving to the music.

“How were you going to take advantage?” Tasha presses. She lowers her voice until it’s almost a purr — and Tasha was never the greatest at seduction, but in a place like this, it hardly matters, not when the floor and the air around them are thick with lust and desperation.

“I wanted to kiss you,” Deanna whispers, now swaying against her, one hand moving to the small of Tasha’s back to touch the bare skin beneath her cropped shirt. “I wanted you in my quarters, stretched out on my silk sheets, your uniform on my floor. My mouth on you until you came, once and then again for me.”

“No,” Tasha says, strangled, because she can’t believe it, not like this.

“Ask Will if you don’t believe me,” Deanna says, the hand on her shoulder wandering down to cup at one of Tasha’s breasts through her shirt. Tasha’s desire is spiralling, rising hot inside her as the seconds pass, and she presses into Deanna’s touch with a sigh. The music changes to a slower but no less pulsating piece, and Deanna stays close to her.

“I fucked him the same night Wyatt went to the Tarellian ship—” and Tasha has never, ever heard Deanna Troi talk like this — “and Will could read it in my thoughts, what I wanted from you. We can still link like that, when we need to. I wouldn’t admit it at first, but he encouraged me until I showed him every bit of what I wanted to do to you. We were both so turned on that I came three times on his cock, just thinking about tasting you. How sweet you’d be. The sounds you’d make under my tongue. I had to hold Will back with my mind or he’d have come right that second, just from imagining that.”

“Deanna,” Tasha breathes, and it comes out strangled. Deanna’s knee slides between hers and she gasps, opening for her, bending her knees until she gets the full friction from the thigh pressing her legs apart insistently. She’s taller than Deanna and has to lower herself into the touch, but, _oh,_ the way it feels —

She considers the implications of that — Deanna controlling someone’s desire with nothing but her mind — and she’s aching with longing. Narcotic-fuelled or not, the desire she’s feeling is about as real as it gets. “You can’t say this to me. I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Shh,” Deanna murmurs. “Let me show you.” Tasha watches her eyes close, then she feels the touch of Deanna’s mind and an image forming, a blurred mass until it sharpens. It’s a startling intimacy that makes her stagger in Deanna’s arms, push herself even closer to her. And Tasha _can’t_ see this, can’t see herself: kissing Deanna, falling back onto the bed beneath her; Deanna’s hands on her breasts, delicate fingers tweaking her nipples and followed up by her skilled mouth.

The picture fades out again. “This isn’t the first time you’ve thought about this?” Tasha asks, and it isn’t really a question.

“No.” Deanna shakes her head, reaching up to yank out her beaded hairband and throw it to the floor. Her hair cascades around her, wild and heart-stoppingly beautiful. Tasha runs her fingers through it, thinking about how she wants to touch Deanna everywhere.

“I think the drug’s affecting you worse than me, Deanna,” Tasha says. She’s making soft little sounds in her throat, holding onto Deanna where she’s still shifting the thigh between her legs in time to the music.

Deanna laughs, throaty. “Of course it is. I’m an empath. The second we got here, I felt everyone’s mind’s opening for me. The lust, the need. Why do you think Will disappeared? He couldn’t have controlled himself around me.” She grins. “Besides, he knew I wanted you. We’ve never got in the way of each other’s fun.” Getting in Tasha’s space, she shifts closer, close enough that she can feel her breath. “My point is: my judgement’s not impaired. I’m just a little less controlled right now.”

“Good,” Tasha mutters, tired of fighting this when Deanna kisses her.

Deanna’s mouth is pliant, and it opens under hers without resistance. Tasha loses herself in the heat of Deanna’s tongue in her mouth, the smooth press of her lips, the urgent way Deanna’s fingertips dig into her spine.

They break apart, and Deanna leads Tasha through the crowd by the hand, cutting through the sea of bodies with a confident stride. She’s stunning like this, Tasha thinks: her curls swinging behind her as she moves, the intermittent lights shining on the flawless skin of her lower back. The technicolour shadows are shifting in time to the steady pulse of the music and everywhere, mouths and hands touch greedily, the whole dancefloor lost in a sybaritic rush of pleasure. They pass Will on the way, and apparently he’s having the time of his life. His blue eyes are glassy and his golden shirt is open, an Erendii’s hands sliding over his chest while another grinds against his back, the three of them making sinous, filthy movements to the pounding rhythm.

Beyond the water-like bead curtains at the edge of the dancefloor is a hallway of several alcoves and private rooms. It smells like sweat and sex and even over the music, Tasha can hear the moans, the crude sound of flesh meeting flesh. She wants to squirm and her cheeks flame in embarrassment, even through her drug-fuelled haze, but Deanna smiles at her, eyes dark with need and entirely unfazed by everything going on around them.

She points to an empty alcove and tugs Tasha down onto a waiting bed, circular and laid with fresh, ocean-blue sheets (they take the whole sea theme seriously here, Tasha’s mind supplies, disjointedly).

Deanna must pick up on her sudden nerves, because she lays a hand on Tasha’s and says: “We don’t have to do this, you know. Or if you’d rather wait until our minds feel a bit clearer, that’s fine, too.”

Leaving the emotional maelstrom of the dancefloor seems to have returned some of Deanna’s clarity to her, but the spark of lust in her eyes certainly hasn’t abated. Tasha doesn’t want to wait; she’s afraid she might lose her nerve if she does.

“I want to,” Tasha says boldly, and starts to unfasten Deanna’s shirt with shaking fingers. She gets it off with a little help from Deanna, then she’s mouthing down her collarbone, her breasts, her mouth closing over a dark nipple so her tongue can curl around it.

Deanna cries out and runs her fingers through her short hair, and oh, Tasha wants to hear more of those sounds. Not that she gets the chance right away, because Deanna straightens up and pushes Tasha down to the bed. Careful fingers quickly divest Tasha of her clothing, and then Deanna’s eyes are on hers, confident and teasing as she pulls away the rest of her own sparkling outfit. The brush of Deanna’s fingertips on Tasha’s skin as she slips down her underwear is utterly erotic and Tasha is desperate for something — anything.

“Relax,” Deanna murmurs. She dips her head and mouths a slick trail over Tasha’s breasts, her belly, the sides of her hips. When she pushes Tasha’s thighs apart with her small, precise hands, Tasha is breathing heavily, her muscles rigid and tense as a spring.

“Can I?” Deanna says, quietly against the skin of her inner thigh, and Tasha realises what she’s really asking when she feels the push of Deanna’s mind against hers, more forceful than it was when she showed her those brief images on the dancefloor.

“Yeah,” Tasha gets out, amazed she can speak at all. Deanna’s mind is spun-gold heat, brighter than anything she’s ever felt. “I can feel you.” She gasps softly.

“Feel this,” Deanna says, sure fingers sliding over Tasha’s hip and lower so she can spread her open for her touch. There’s a slight coolness, then the startling, wet heat of Deanna’s mouth is on her.

Tasha doesn’t mean to close her eyes, she doesn’t, but the sharp shock of lust from Deanna at the same moment her tongue touches her is so overwhelming, all she can do is reach a hand back and gasp. She presses her hand to the cool sheets, grounding herself while Deanna takes her apart with the heat of her tongue and the skilled touch of her mind.

“Oh, fuck, mm, please,” she mumbles, incoherent. Her other hand reaches for Deanna’s hair, finding purchase in the long curls that brush against her thighs.

Inside her mind, there’s Deanna — how did Will cope with this, how _does_ he? is Tasha’s sudden thought — wandering through, a bright, welcoming thread touching at places in her mind that spark new sensations between her thighs. It doesn’t take long for her to come, her thighs trembling against Deanna’s hips as she licks her through it. She doesn’t stop, and true to her word, rapidly draws another orgasm from Tasha, stoking the embers of her release with another overwhelming jolt to the pleasure centres of her brain, at the same time her fingers slide into Tasha and curl up at just the right angle.

Tasha comes so hard this time she actually screams, the end of the sound choked off in her throat as she feels Deanna urging her along in her mind: _that’s it, Tasha, just a little bit more, I know you can take it like that. You’re doing so well for me._

When Tasha eventually comes back to herself, Deanna’s head is resting on her thigh, shiny lips curved into a smile.

“You’re wicked,” Tasha says, hoarse, surprised she still has a voice left, and tugs Deanna up by the shoulders to kiss her open-mouthed, tasting herself.

As she kisses her, she slides her hand down Deanna’s belly and laughs when she feels the muscles jump under her touch, very much feeling the presence of Deanna’s arousal in her own mind. Her fingers drag through damp curls and then she’s touching her, and Deanna’s fingers are digging into her arm, her nails making crescents on Tasha’s skin.

Her eyes are closed and she’s making these soft sounds as Tasha rubs slowly at her clit, experimenting to find the places that draw the loudest sounds from Deanna.

“Mm, so good,” Deanna says, breathing heavily. “But I’ve got another idea.” Her eyes glint. “Let me get on top of you.”

Tasha is never going to argue with that. She lets go and lies back, shifting up the pillows and pulling Deanna on top of her, offering her thigh.

Deanna laughs, and then she’s leaning in to kiss her, the Betazoid heat of her shocking as her breasts press against Tasha’s chest. Her legs open until Tasha’s thigh is between them and then she’s grinding on her, hot and wet, and it might be the sexiest thing that Tasha has ever seen in her life.

 _Mmm, you’re enjoying this so much, aren’t you, I can feel it,_ Deanna’s voice says in her mind, low and husky. In surprise, Tasha stills the hands that are currently palming Deanna’s breasts, tweaking at her nipples so gently. She'll never get used to this; hearing Deanna in her head is powerful in a way she's never felt before. Deanna could make her do anything like this, she thinks, and that’s as terrifying as it is arousing.

 _Oh God, Tasha, I’m going to come,_ the voice says again, and it’s drowned out by Deanna’s very real moans into Tasha’s mouth. She feels Deanna’s mind reaching for hers, pushing inside, and then Deanna’s orgasm hits, blazing in its intensity, the sensation wiping all thought from Tasha’s mind. Even as Deanna comes down from her high, the echoes linger. Tasha can still feel a brush of heat between her own thighs when Deanna draws back and slumps down beside her, gasping with thorough satisfaction.

“Oh,” Tasha says, stupid with infatuation, hardly knowing what she’s saying. “Why haven’t we done that before?”

“I have no idea,” Deanna says, still catching her breath.

Tasha winces as a sharp pain starts up at her temples. Deanna looks concerned, and she places fingers either side of Tasha’s head, applying pressure.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s the telepathy. If you’ve never felt someone in your mind, it can be overwhelming.” She smiles. “The first time Will and I made love, years ago, he was doubled over afterwards with what he thought was a migraine. But he quickly got used to it.”

“Oh. I never knew .” Tasha closes her eyes and lets Deanna’s sure touch lift the tension. It helps a lot, and a few moments later, she can open her eyes without pain.

They sleep for a while, until the strange, creepy chime sounds again and the gathering begins to disperse. After finding their clothes strewn around the bed, they pull them on hastily and join the throng heading in the direction of the exit. Alien eyes watch them, some with self-satisfied expressions on their faces, some simply curious.

Too exhausted to find the bedroom, they crawl onto the enormous couch in their suite and curl up there.

Tasha is woken by the press of Will’s hand on her shoulder.

“Tasha. Hey.”

Deanna is stirring next to her. Tasha coughs and stretches — she doesn’t feel too bad, all things considered.

“Will Riker!” Deanna exclaims. “We’d just about given you up for dead.”

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Will says. He slumps down on the couch with a contented sigh, stretching out his large frame. He looks thoroughly debauched: there’s a bite on the side of his lip and what looks suspiciously like tentacle marks on his neck. His face still sparkles from all the gold glitter they daubed on him.

“I trust you ladies had a good night?”

“Very,” Tasha says, trying not to grin too much. 

Will gives Deanna a knowing look that she returns, and Tasha is sure that something unspoken and empathic is passing between the two of them.

“I think you need a dermal regenerator before the captain sees you,” Deanna says, her smile warm and teasing. She reaches up to touch his lip and he flinches as her fingertips brush over the bite.

“Yeah. Probably best.” Will makes a sheepish face. “I’ll see if O’Brien can beam me straight to my quarters.”

“What were the Erendii like last night, Will?” Tasha asks. “From what I’ve read, their physiology is pretty different from humanoid. How did that even work?”

Will winks at her. “A gentleman never tells.” He stretches up his arms and grins, unmistakeably satisfied. “Let’s just say that it _did_ work.”

The next day, Erendii VI is admitted into the Federation with all the customary pomp and circumstance.

A small reception is held in Ten Forward for the senior staff. After greeting the Erendii delegation warmly, Picard shakes hands with the three of them.

“Well done, Lieutenant Yar!” he says, pride evident in his voice. Then, more quietly: “I don’t know how you all managed it. This gathering business sounds like quite the delicate operation. It’s a wonder you didn’t offend them; many of their rules sound terribly complicated.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tasha says, making sure to smile. “They weren't so bad after all.”

Deanna's expression from where she's standing opposite is distinctly mischievous.

“Actually, we found the Erendii to be a most, er — welcoming race,” Will interjects with his customary grin. “Once you get to know their quirks.”

“I shall be fascinated to hear the details in your log, Number One,” Picard says, placing his champagne glass on a passing tray and grabbing another two.

Tasha has to make a supreme effort not to giggle when she sees the panicked look in Will’s eyes.

Picard passes the champagne glass to Tasha and nods stiffly at the three of them.

“Good work, all.” He turns to Will.

 _I’ve been thinking_ , Deanna’s cool, smooth voice says in her mind _. Want to get a drink sometime?_

Tasha doesn’t have the telepathic prowess to reply and hopes she doesn’t look too slack-jawed at the implications of the question, but Deanna is talking to the captain alongside Will and not even looking at her. She snaps her mouth shut.

A visiting diplomat comes over to spirit the captain away. Will is distracted already, looking over Tasha’s shoulder, intent in his eyes — he’s clearly spotted some sort of potential conquest across the room. When Tasha can finally bring herself to look at Deanna, she can see that she’s waiting for a response.

Deanna’s gaze is impassive, but there’s clearly more going underneath. Tasha mouths a silent _yes_ and feels a searing rush of lust that isn’t her own.

The answering smile she gets from Deanna is bright and pleased.

Tasha returns it; she can’t wait for next time.


End file.
